


Race from the Darkness

by OMEGA1979



Category: Guardians of the Galaxy - All Media Types
Genre: Child Abuse, Kink Meme
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-26
Updated: 2014-12-26
Packaged: 2018-03-03 18:08:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2860154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OMEGA1979/pseuds/OMEGA1979
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based on a kinkmeme, not part of any series. Just a bit of darkness from the ravagers, and the hell that Peter is now in. be advised, abuse and swearing. oh and Happy New Year xxx</p><p>http://guardian-kink.livejournal.com/2727.html?thread=1196455#t1196455</p>
            </blockquote>





	Race from the Darkness

Race from the Darkness, into the light

He was now thirteen, and had been a Ravager in training for five years, five years of hell with a Captain and his insane crew who beat him regularly, who stole from him and who made him wished he was dead almost every day. If he were still on Earth, he would have been at school, perhaps walking home…And perhaps playing soccer. Instead, he was on Xander, with the rest of the crew elsewhere so he had to pick up the slack, even though his body hurt from the latest batch of bruises, courtesy of Kraglin. As soon as he hit puberty, and had a growth spurt, Yondu decided it was time to fight…to become tough instead of tender. Now he had become a game, to see how long he could last, how long could he stand in a circle and take each beating. For some reason he healed quickly, and then it intensified, His ribs had been broken so many times, he had lost count. The only one that almost never laid a finger on him was Yondu; he was just content to watch "his pet", as he hit the floor over and over again, with the smirk on his face through his crooked teeth.

From the day he had arrived, Yondu swore his crew were going to eat him if he fucked up…And it turned up he didn't need to fuck up for them to take a taste of him. Even after a year his left arm still hurt from when part of the muscle was cut out, he still remembered them holding him down and the blade going into his skin, cutting through the flesh, almost exposing the bone. Stupidly he had gone to Yondu, almost in tears as the tall Ravager Captain just laughed in his face and told him to go to the Med Bay. That night he had learnt to stitch his own wounds and as he lay on the bed waiting for the fever to go down after the inevitable infection, since he had found it that he was allergic to ant-bio.

Yondu wouldn't pay more for something for him as the sweat dripped from his brow and the heat raced through his body. He wished he was dead, the same way he wished almost every day as he looked at his reflection and only saw a skinny green eyes Terran that looked too old, acted too old and couldn't remember much about his old life.

He remembered his Walkman, which had been taken off him the day he arrived and had never seen it again, forcing him to commit the songs to memories. He could vaguely remember his mother, any thought or sentiment he ever had had been beaten out of him. Yondu didn't like weak crew or cry-babies and that what Peter was, until the moment after he had been thrown into the bulkhead, snapping his arm in the process. That night he had curled up in the med bay, crying his eyes out, until the moment he decided to quit. That would show Yondu, that would show that he was strong enough, that would make it easier. Wishful words and false hopes were a mainstay of his life, because it changed nothing, he was still their whipping boy and abuse monkey.

But he had to be good, to go on missions, and that would change everything

Peter stood on top of the building, letting the wind whip around him, as the sun blinded him, he wasn't used to fresh air and sunshine, even if he had pointed out to Yondu that his species needed both to grow.

He received a punch to the head from Kraglin for that, for stating the obvious as the Centurian joked that he knew that, but wanted Pete looking young…perhaps cripple him if he had too, to get sympathy.

Beneath him he could see the Ravagers carrying on with the raid, looking a building of something important, Peter was never sure. Some days it was art, on others it was money or jewels. Yondu didn't care as long as the contact was willing to pay; even though Peter never saw any of it.

A few streets away he could see the Xandarian Corps, going about their duties ignorant at way lay ahead as he relayed their location in a flat voice advising them to move. There was a shuttle parked nearby which they could get back to in minutes to the M-Ship, as Peter watched the movements increase.

"Quill we're moving, get your ass back down here" He heard Kraglin over the receiver as made his way to get down the ladder.

Coming to the pavement he turned left to where the Ravagers stood; lifting the items in their hands, there was no Yondu…where was he exactly? Then he stopped. Had they seen him, was he seen and in that split second, he made his decision and begun to run to this right, to the Corpsman, the ground beneath him seemed to slow down as he run with all his might, his breath clenching in his lungs. If he got to them, if he explained he could be free, as he turned the corner knowing exactly where they would be and almost wept at the sight of them in their tight pants, both were tall and looked official as Peter finally got up to them and they turned to he boy who was too small for his age.

To them they could only see a boy running desperately towards them, as they put out an hand which Peter grabbed tightly, his race red for the run, as his struggled to get the words out "Rava…Ravag...Ravagers chasing me". The pair looked at each other before one begun speaking into his own communication device, "Report we have Ravagers in the area, and be advised to look out". As one of them, who had purple eyes turned to Peter "Who are you?"

"My name is Peter…Peter Quill; they kidnapped me five years ago". Peter gasped and he held tighter onto the man's clothes his dirty hands staining the white cloth. "Please you have to help me, you have to help me". Peter begged as the man looked at him trying to comprehend the situation. "They kidnapped you, a Xandarian child…are you an orphan".

"No I'm a…" The last words were unfinished as Kraglin suddenly appeared into view, having seen Peter run so he had left the men to take the cargo back, before going to fetch the Captains "other cargo". Peter's mouth went dry at the sight of the tall thin man, as he looked at the Nova Corps, before looking at Peter and just sneered, something that caused a shiver of fear to run down Peter's spine that was born from prolonged beatings.

"Well, looke here…what are you doing here Peter, you should be back with the others". Kraglin smirked as Peter gripped the Corpsman tighter and somehow in the recesses of his brain he found words to say.

"I'm not going back with you; I won't go back to you. I won't let you beat me again". He screamed as the Corpsman tried to understand this situation as he took in Kraglin's Ravager coat. "You kidnapped this boy", there was a note of uncertainty in his voice as Kraglin just reared back his head and claimed in a playful manner. "Can't a man take his son out without all this happening" since Peter looked Xandarian, they were always trying to pass him off as one, as Peter quickly reached down and grabbed the small knife he carried, and quickly pressed it to his skin "I'm not Xandarian, I'm not even from her…I'm from Earth". He said rapidly as he drew the small blade down his hand revealing the redness of his blood as it dripped down his fingers.

The Corpsman looked at the red, then back towards the blue-blooded Xandarian, trying to process the information, trying to figure out what to do. Which caused Peter after running, after five years of abuse to finally snap inside "What are you waiting for, just get me away from him". He practically screamed, desperate to get away to safety, hell even a prison…anything.

The Corpsmen took one more look at Peter and quickly opened the cruiser door, "Get in, just get in". He urged as Peter almost wept, this was it he was now safe, as from the distance he heard a familiar low whistle in the air which immediately begun to echo off the buildings so it; secret location couldn't be traced, but Peter knew what it was, and his heart begun to beat faster.

"Let's just get out of here, don't arrest them, just let me get out of her…Please" Peter begged once more as the pitch of the whistle grew higher and the Corpsman just looked around. Peter knew what was going to happen next, from all the years it had been used as a threat, and all he could whisper was a "Sorry", as the Yaka arrow appeared in the air, and three seconds later it was all over as the arrow was true and ripped into the first one's throat, immediately Peter was showered in the blue blood as his colleague turned round, and for a brief second met Peter in the eyes, as it entered through the back of his head, his eyes narrowed as if he could see the arrow, not drenched in his brain matter, as with his lips about to say something he also slumped to the ground.

Peter didn't need to look up to know the steps of the one who was walking towards him as the Yaka arrow returned to his rightful owner.

"Quill", it was always his last name, he had stopped reminding him his name was Peter years ago, as the footsteps got closer and he didn't bother bracing himself for the hand that came across his face, "You little bastard running like that". The Centurean hissed, like the rest of the Ravagers approached as Peter's eyes finally left the ground the see the smug look on Kraglin's face. "You strip that cruiser and these bastards". The dead Corpsman looked up at Peter, as Yondu stamped on of them in the chest for effect, "Then get your asses back to the Eclector, the boys coming back with me". Wordless, with his hands clenched and eyes blank, he knew not to cry anymore Peter followed the Captain back to his M-Ship, with a heavy body, knowing what was to happen next, as the hanger door close and it was just to two of them.

With the ship on autopilot, Peter knew what was coming, and tried to will his body to feel nothing, as Yondu stood and punched the boy in the stomach.

Immediately Peter fell to the deck, as his breath caught in his chest, as Yondu grabbed him by the hair and yanked him up, so they were eye level with each other. Peter knew not to struggle, so didn't. "You little bastard, did you ever think you could leave…well?" Peter had to answer the question, even if he hated the answer as he whispered a small, but defiant "No". Looking Yondu straight in the eyes, if he lowered them Youdu would hit him harder, he hated weakness, or what he perceived as weakness.

"Never, act weak. Never be weak and never show any sentiment to anyone…do you think anyone out there gives a shit about you?" Yondu demanded as Peter could only nod, to make it clear his lesson had been learned.

"Good, that's good". Sneered Yondu, as he dropped the boy to the ground, and brought his foot down several times into Peter's stomach, as the boy clawed and wheezed as the breath was forced out if his body, for a brief moment Yondu down at the boy and Peter as his brain tried to reconnect with the rest of his body began to wonder what would happen next, as the Captain just gave him a sneer and went back to the pilot seat, with the Eclector appearing in view admits the stars. Peter drew himself up to his knees and struggled to find his feet on the deck.

"Better get yourself cleaned up boy; the men might want a "taste", of you when we get back". Yondu spat the word, and Peter knowing the true meaning of the word, got to his feet and silently made his way back to the storage room. Everyone else bunked, but he, he was afforded a special place, cramped and full of storage and soundproof so one could hear his screams in the night.

Lowering himself to the floor, he grabbed the thin blanket and threw it over his head as if it was a blanket of protection. He knew he should wash, but it made no difference to them anyway, word would have got around about his attempted escape and now they wanted him more, they liked him to resist, to be defiant to justify what they were about to do to him.

Peter cast himself in a world that was elsewhere, one where it didn't hurt as he lay there breathing slowly, and not for the first time wished he had the guts to space himself, as the metal boots echoing on the deck, got closer and the crewman closed the door behind him.


End file.
